Uninvited Memories
by BrenRenQoI
Summary: Post Jolinar's MemoriesDevil You Know piece, part of the Missing Moments series


Uninvited Memories

by Bren Ren

Summary: Post Jolinar's Memories/ The Devil You Know; Sam & Jack reflect on their relationship after the events of the two eps.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money off them, just playing with my virtual Barbies again.

Part 1

I was in the locker room, just finished suiting up, when the Colonel came in. I knew I should rise to greet him, but right at that very moment, I didn't have the strength. I heard him sit down beside me on the bench, close enough I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, but not quite touching.

"Carter," he began softly.

"I know." I had to stop him. This was not the time for dropping defenses; if anything, I needed those old walls between us more desperately than ever. They were gone, though. Had been for some time, and I knew he could see right through to my trembling heart.

"I know this won't be easy on you." Damn, but he could be persistent sometimes. If the hint is anything smaller than a four-by-four, it would sail right past his thick skull.

"I said, I know." This time I managed to sound almost fierce, almost myself. Almost. I swallowed back the fear and turned to peg him face on. "It won't be easy on you either." He blanched. "Martouf and Jolinar were quite close… Closer than us, even." Jack O'Neill actually paled in response to my words. "Closer than… than I can possibly imagine any two people being."

"I know." His tone had picked up a steely quality while staying quite soft and low, for my ears only. Not that anyone else would dare come in to interrupt them for anything less than another intergalactic emergency, and seeing as how we were already preparing to combat one, that wasn't too likely.

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes growing dark and unfathomably deep. "And it's bound to come out… with those memory-chip-things." Jack winced at the memories they still shared of their first encounter with those devices. He heaved out a deep sigh. "Yeah… I'm ready for it."

I choked back a snort of laughter. "Wish I were. But I doubt anything can really prepare me for it." I let the room go quiet once more. Then I felt his warm hand slide over mine and squeeze gently. Slowly, I turned my hand over and returned the gesture. "Everything Jolinar felt for Martouf… I can feel it. As strongly and deeply as if it were my own, I feel it. The bond they shared… You can't imagine what it's like, sir. I can barely grasp it, and I'm still living through it." I finally braved turning my eyes up to meet his, to hold his gaze unwavering.

"But those feelings are not my own. They are Jolinar's feelings. I know that as much as I know that if it were possible for a human being to feel all of those things as strongly and deeply as centuries-old Tok'ra…" I left the sentence hanging unfinished between them, suddenly afraid of saying to much, of crossing that line we always found ourselves dancing around. "What I do feel comes pretty damn close."

For a moment, I thought I could see him glowing. A small smile played at the corner of his lips. It was gone before it fully formed though. "Well… as long as we're clear on that… we shouldn't have any problems on this mission."

I came as close as I possibly could to smiling back. I never quite made it either. "No, sir, we shouldn't." I glanced down and realized our hands were still joined. I squeezed his hand one last time before releasing it. I stood up and grabbed the first pile of my gear.

"C'mon. Let's go get Dad the hell out of… um… hell." This time, I let the snort rip free as I left the locker room.

I could feel him watching me. Every time Martouf activated the memory recall device, I could feel his gaze burning into me, never wavering, never faltering, just staring. He wouldn't say a word, for what could he say? It was a necessary evil I alone needed to endure for the sake of my father. All he could do was stand back and watch. Stare.

I was rather surprised by the old memories the device dredged from my cerebral storage banks. Then again, I suppose it's not too much of a leap for me to be thinking about the parent I've already lost as I'm about to set out on a desperate mission to save the other.

If I do say so myself, I'm still pretty amazed at how well I kept it together out there. Not one note of panic dared creep into my voice. No one could have guessed how scared to death I really was. Then again, the people I was with knew me well enough they didn't need to guess. They knew. Jack knew better than all of them. And yet, all he did was watch. Stare.

His eyes seemed to track every movement, even the tiniest lift of my brow, ever watchful for any sign that this was too much. As I began surfacing Jolinar's deeply buried memories out of one of the darkest corners in my mind, I was acutely aware of his stare. It seemed to burn right through me. Especially as I recalled that last night Jolinar spent with Martouf before she went on this suicide mission.

There should be a cold shower available for anyone who has to recall Tok'ra sex. Talk about hot.

I digress…

Suicide mission. That thought alone is enough to sober a person up quick. No matter how many times you go through the Stargate, you are always aware that you may never make it back home. Each and every mission is a potential suicide mission in the making, from the very first. The biggest reason Jack O'Neill had been selected to run that first mission had been certain possible suicidal behavior traits showing up following the death of his son.

I didn't know he'd had a child for quite some time into our working relationship. No one had dared breathe a word of it when the SGC became an official, permanent operation. The bits and pieces I've seen of that side of his life tell me he had been a wonderful father. I know the loss of that son will haunt him for the rest of his life. And yet, he has, amazingly, managed to find the will and strength to keep going, and every day that passes, there is the slightest lessening of that dark pain in the back of his eyes. I wonder if I could really have something to do with that.

If I have managed to bring some level of comfort, happiness, even peace into Jack's life, every chance we've taken has been well worth it. He deserves it as much or more than anyone else I know. He has been a blessing to everyone he's come into contact with—well, with certain obvious exceptions—throughout the short time I've known him. He has a very strict, if unique moral code that no one should dare cross. The consequences of Jack O'Neill's rightful anger are not something to be messed with lightly.

For all that, he's still ten times more likely to bend or flat out break the rules than anyone else I have ever met—and twenty times more likely to get away with it when he's caught. I don't know how he does it. At this moment, all I know with any certainty is that I'm grateful for that particular little talent of his. For all his many talents, I am and will always be immensely grateful.

Throughout the mission, his gaze never faltered. He could give me no sort of grandiose display of affection, but what he could give me was everything I needed. Through his burning stare, I drew a sort of strength that I had only ever felt in his presence. Deep, abiding, timeless strength I drew from him as I faced the haunting memories of Jolinar's treacherous past.

For all that was beautiful, sensual, and pure about the Tok'ra joining, there was nothing chaste about what the woman had to do to escape that hell-hole. It was absolutely horrifying, and if the mere memory of it made me want to wretch violently, I cannot imagine how Jolinar found the forbearance to endure being touched so intimately by that thing that was Sokar's right-hand-beast.

The memory of that sickening course of events was far worse than anything else the memory device or even the Blood of Sokar could dredge up. Worse than reliving my mother's death, or remembering the horrible hours during which I had truly hated my father… It was worse than all of the other nightmares that flew through my drugged brain, even long after I was returned to the cell. The nightmare of losing Jack, watching him die slowly as I stood powerless to stop it; the nightmare of watching the earth be rapidly overtaken by Goa'uld; the nightmare of watching every person I love die around me as I live on, alone. It was without question the worst thing I've ever experienced.

How I survived—how any of us survived those living nightmares must be yet another testament to each of us of our own personal fortitude. I can only begin to imagine the waking nightmares my teammates endured; as for Jack, my commander, my friend, my sometimes lover, I know the experience was a far cry from anything he'd suffered in his own past. Nothing in the Iraqi's torture arsenal could ever match the Goa'uld or their mind-bending technology.

We survived, though. We escaped. And all the while, I could feel him watching me. I didn't have to see it, I just knew. I could feel his gaze burning into me, and I drew strength from him. His determination to save my father almost outdid my own, and I knew that together, we could beat anything Sokar or Apophis could dish out. We would survive, we would win. I never doubted, no matter how bleak it got. All because I had his strength feeding my own, all through a simple but unwavering stare.

By the end, it was a lifeline to me. I tried desperately to pass that strength on to dad. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him again, especially not with the memories of losing mom so fresh and poignant in my mind. It was a quite the internal battle for me to get those wild emotions back under control. Again, I couldn't have done it alone. I know that Jack O'Neill was as instrumental in saving me from myself on that hell of a planet as any of my own strength, courage, intelligence or training.

It will probably always amaze me how easily he can do that. He doesn't have to coddle me, and I am more than capable of taking care of myself out in the field, or anywhere. And yet, one glance at that cool, confident, unyielding stare, I feel tenfold stronger, braver, smarter. It's an amazing confidence builder, and though I could live without it, why would I want to?

God alone knows if or when Jack and I will finally be free to be together openly, but we are together now, however unconventionally. We work together more closely than almost anyone on the planet, often spending days, even weeks at a time working, living, eating, breathing, side by side in the name of duty. That duty may make it hard sometimes, to feel all that we feel and not be able to do anything but wait and hope, but that duty is worth it. Just as what Jack and I share is worth all the risks the very nature of our relationship has created. I believe we are both stronger for it, and if it ever became a risk to the team, the SGC, hell, even the earth, I have no doubt we'd walk away and never look back.

I don't see that being a problem, though. Not on the Stargate program. The nature of the work we do and the secrecy surrounding it makes it nearly requisite that the people working there become much closer than any other military command. Traveling thousands of light years from home with no one to trust but each other? Yeah, that trust is going to become fairly well unbreakable. I sometimes wonder how long it will take before the higher ups realize this and change some of the rules around the Stargate program personnel's needs. Like the frat regs. Could really do with a change to those… Someday.

Part 2

I'm wide awake. You'd think a trip to hell and back would knock me out before my head hit the pillow, but here I am wide awake. I'm exhausted, but completely unable to stop the whirlwind of scattered thoughts from kicking up one hell of a dust devil in my poor old brain. So I lay here in the dark, wide awake, alone with my thoughts… something that can be dangerous given too much time in said condition.

Hell and back. That's one cliché I could have lived without experiencing firsthand. Not that it wasn't a worthy cause, it sure as hell was. Doesn't get much worthier than defending the galaxy from super evil bad guys and saving the father of the woman you love.

Damn. I have really got to stop thinking of her that way. Its true enough, but it makes situations like this mission damned difficult. Listening to Sam crying out in agony as she relived that snake-head's torture sessions, but completely unable to show any sign of how badly I wanted to go to her, just to be beside her, to offer her some small measure of comfort. Instead, I just sat there. Watching her from afar. Just as I must love her from afar, I must also watch her suffer that way.

Someone out in this universe has a sick sense of humor. What other explanation is there for this sad predicament Sam and I are stuck in? It is only here, in the dark privacy of my bed that I let myself even call her by her given name. I love this woman more than life itself, and yet I cannot dare let that show. Especially not out there. I shouldn't do it here, either, I'm sure. I think I'll just give myself a mental shrug and move on.

One hell of a mission. Blood of Sokar… really reminded me of something I took way back when, young and stupid sort of thing. The trip this stuff gave me was definitely not a happy place. You know what? I don't want to think about that right now.

I'm wide awake, and all I can think about are the forbidden subjects. What the hell is up with that? Where's a good hockey game when you need it? I roll over to check the clock, thoroughly disgruntled by the early morning hour it was reporting. No way was Carter still up this late. Not after this trip. Besides, wasn't she going to take some downtime with Dad? Not exactly the ideal time to go darkening her doorstep.

I'm wide awake. It's been three days since we dragged Jacob's butt out of hell. Three days since I've seen hide or hair of Carter. Three long nights I haven't slept more than the requisite forty winks. It's getting ridiculous.

I sit up, slam on the lights and grab the phone from the nightstand. Before I can think about what I'm doing, I'm dialing her number.

It rings. Once. Twice. I'm ready to hang up as the third ring begins when it suddenly stops. There's no sound on the other end, just muffled silence. I'm about to hang up anyway when I finally hear her voice.

"It's about damned time, sir."

I have to muffle a snort of laughter at her greeting.

"Well, weren't you and dad off to go visit your brother in California?"

"We went, we saw, we came back yesterday. I called. Left a message." She actually sounded annoyed. I muffled another snort.

"I've been here since we got back."

"Oh." She sounded a bit deflated now. "I left you a message at the base. Figured you'd be there."

"You weren't the only one needing some downtime after our trip to hell and back." I winced. That came out a lot harsher than intended.

"Of course, sir." She sounded duly contrite. I hate doing that to her.

"So, is dad still with you?"

I hear her sigh softly. "Sound asleep in the guest room."

"Why don't you come over here, then? We can talk."

"Talk? Since when do you want to talk?"

"Since I got saddled with the smartest, sexiest scientist in the Air Force, and she decided for some strange reason that she actually likes having me around." I'm pretty sure I can hear her blushing through the line.

"And you're sure it's talking you have in mind?"

"Just a quiet little chat between friends. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Only in that it often manages to be a lot more than just a chat between us… We don't want to push our luck too far. There are still a lot of… risks."

"Which I have duly weighed and measured, and found that this is worth every risk we must take. Fighting it was sure a damn sight more distracting than giving in to it once in a while."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Now why don't you get off the phone and get over here so we can discuss this more in depth?"

"You betcha. See you in a bit." With no further adieu, she hung up her phone. I sat holding mine for a moment or two as the conversation fully sank in. Carter's on her way over. Now what have I gotten myself into?

Part 3

Jack got up and quickly donned some jeans and a dark sweater. He padded barefoot down the hall into the kitchen and began brewing some coffee, vaguely surprised he still had any in the cupboards. He walked into the living room, flicked on a soft lamp before crossing to the stereo. He pushed a couple of buttons and sounds of soft classical music began filling the room. He took one quick survey and decided it all looked appropriately cozy before strolling back down the hall to get some footwear on.

He'd no sooner gotten that task accomplished when he heard a firm knock on the door. He had to swallow his heart back down to his chest before he could put one foot in front of the other to walk back out to answer the door.

He opened the door slowly, his eyes taking in the sight of her just as slowly, a thorough head to toe inspection with his eyes. She was wearing close fitting jeans, a dark colored sweater, and a smile to knock his socks off.

Jack swallowed hard before speaking. "Come on in," he said softly.

Sam stepped into the hallway and walked the few steps into the living room before stopping. "So is that coffee I smell?"

"It is. Should be about done. The usual?" he offered.

Sam nodded, her attention diverted by a sudden swell in the music. She smiled as she turned back to him. He'd just turned to fetch the coffee as he caught glimpse of her and he almost tripped over his own feet. Jack wondered just when she had developed the capacity to reduce him to nervous-teenager status.

Jack was quick to fix the coffee, anxious to get back to Sam and get this uncomfortable discussion over with. He knew if he let her, she'd bottle the entire experience up and it would eat her inside out until she dealt with it.

He passed a mug to Sam and gestured for her to sit with him on the sofa. They sat together in silence for a while, enjoying the quiet companionship. It was eventually Jack who broke the silence. He set his mug down on the coffee table and turned to face Sam.

"This was a very personal mission for you," he said softly.

"Yes, sir." Her voice was just as soft.

"Let's try something different tonight…" Jack paused, realizing the significance of what he was about to suggest. "Let's just drop the whole 'sir' 'major' formality. It's just you and me here, Sam."

"There's a good reason I prefer the formality, sir. I guess it's become something of a cornerstone in that invisible wall between the personal and the professional. It's hard to… to let that guard down."

"It's not the first time. We've been here before, you know."

"And we agreed that we shouldn't go here again, didn't we?"

"Again, Sam, this was a personal mission for you. I would be remiss as both your commanding officer and your friend if I didn't at least try to help you cope with the aftermath. I just happen to think I'll do a better job helping as your friend tonight." Jack reached out to touch one of her hands, ever so softly.

"We're going to have to come up with a better solution for… this, I think," Sam replied. She turned her hand over to cup his. "This is getting harder with every mission. Denying it didn't work… I mean, it was just as distracting, if not more so. What are we supposed to do?"

Jack frowned. "Our options haven't changed. Either you transfer to another team, one of us resigns our commission, forget about it, or take our chances against possible court martial proceedings. We might… nah, it's too long a shot."

"What's a long shot?"

"Well, we've saved the world a few times… maybe we could pull a favor from the President…" Jack trailed off at her incredulous face.

"And what? We ask permission to ignore the regs, as it were?"

"Or something like that… maybe not ignore the regs so much as an exception…" Jack trailed off again, a bit uncertain as he hadn't planned on the conversation taking this particular turn. "It's something to consider… but you, my friend, are changing the subject. Avoiding much?"

"We saved my father's life, I had to deal with some repressed memories of a life I never wanted to know… what's there to deal with?"

"You once told me that hosting Jolinar was the worst experience of your life. Now you're going to try and tell me reliving that was no big deal?"

"Of course it was a big deal. I'm not really trying to minimize it." Jack shot her a knowing look. "Okay, maybe I am a bit. It's just really hard… sorting through all those… things. The feelings. I think though, for the first time since it happened that I am really able to distinguish my feelings from Jolinar's."

"And that's a good thing."

"Yes. Jolinar was… a good person. After all, when it came down to it, she sacrificed her life to save mine. I can't ever forget that. Just as I can't ever really forget all the memories that she brought with her. They may be suppressed, but they are always there, just beneath the surface of my conscious mind. I can feel them, always. And when I see Martouf…" she paused as she caught Jack wincing out of the corner of her eye. "… all those things come flooding to the surface, almost as if I still had Jolinar inside of me. Which I do, in a manner of speaking. A part of me will always be Jolinar now. That was hard to come to terms with, but I think I finally have."

"And those… feelings… for Martouf?" Jack couldn't help but ask.

"I think I finally have a good fix on those, too. What I feel for him are largely Jolinar's feelings, not my own. My own feelings are far more… sibling-like. Kind of like with Daniel." She paused again, this time to smile for Jack's benefit. "It's nothing like what I feel for you… Jack."

"Good," Jack said, obvious relief shading his features for a split second.

"The important thing is, I'm me now. I'm not her anymore." Sam paused for a moment, debating to herself how far she wanted to go. The debate lasted but a moment, though, for the second she looked into Jack's eyes, she knew she was lost, and that she had been from the moment he called. She knew it was time to go all the way, and she just hoped Jack was ready for it. "Do you have any idea what its like to be in love as a Tok'ra?"

Jack blanched slightly, taken aback by the question. He shook his head, a frown filling his features.

Sam smiled gently. "It's amazing to even think about. Jolinar and Martouf had been together for over a century, and their love was still young. Can you really imagine being with one person for a hundred years?"

"I'd be lucky if that time was with you," Jack replied sincerely.

Sam smiled again, that special brilliant beam she saved for him. "They had that, and I remembered all of it. It was an incredible feeling, and I know that nothing will ever destroy it. It has survived even Jolinar's death, it's that real and powerful. It's a strange connection I share with Martouf, but it's a strong one, as strong as anything I feel for you. It's different, and almost impossible to explain… from my perspective, he's like a lost love that was never meant to be. The love will always be there, but it will always be in the past. Does that make any sense?"

Jack mulled it over, really not liking to think about it too much. He nodded slowly. "As much as any explanation is likely to, I guess. Its in the past. I just hope Martouf knows that, too."

"He does, I'm sure. He knows I'm not Jolinar. I wish I could tell him… about us. But I don't even know quite what to tell myself about us right now." Sam sat quiet for a moment. "All I know is that I can't seem to tell myself no anymore, even though I know I should."

"I'm having a hard time with that one myself. Something's got to give, Sam."

"I know. I don't think either of us can live with that 'someday maybe' anymore," she said, leaning towards him. "In fact, I don't think it's a matter of 'maybe' at all… and someday has come tonight."

Jack closed the final distance between them, letting his actions speak for him at last. He swept her up into a deep kiss, one that shook her to her core and back; it was long, hard, demanding, leaving no room for argument. Then, as swiftly as it began, he ended it.

"Tonight?" He held his head close to hers, not quite touching, breathing in her air as she breathed his.

"Now." She took the lead this time, sweeping his mouth into a slow, sensual kiss that turned Jack's inside's out and made his toes curl all at once. Jack wrapped his arms around her, bending her back into the couch as he devoured her mouth with his own. In moments they were lost in a sensual fog of love and lust, the rest of the world fading into white noise in the distant background.


End file.
